Save Me From This Memory (A Hetalia FanFic)
by Grellkat
Summary: When a man loses his son in a dense forest, everything turns into a panic. For that man it is a living hell. But what happens to the young boy when he grows up, and remembers the horrors he experienced when he was isolated within a large forest? Will he be able to shrug it off, or will his whole adult life be tormented from that week? If so who will be able to save him?
1. The Search

Isolated in a gloomy and misty forest is a panicked slender man who has short, messy blonde hair, and lime green eyes. He's running, avoiding all obstacles nature throws at him panting picking up his speed. "Alfred! Alfred Jones!" His voice boomed throughout the dense forest as he wiped mud from his face that had begun to slide into his eyes.

"I'm filthy," he mumbled, disgusted to himself, shaking his head shortly after. "No time to worry about my cleanliness. I have to find Alfred." With a nod of his head, he advanced with an unflinching determination.

Hours upon hours of searching for his lost son had past; he was beginning to lose hope in ever finding Alfred. He couldn't yell for his voice was now hoarse and strained. It even hurt to whisper. If that wasn't enough, his legs were beginning to give out. Every step grew heavier forcing him to his hands and knees with a low thud. "Alfred… Where are you?" He whispered his cheeks stained with his salty tears, that streamed down from his red and puffy eyes.

Slowly opening the front door, he peered inside. Within the household, he could see his husband Francis cooking, the alluring smell of the Frenchman's freshly cooked Chateaubriand steak entering his nasal cavity. He took a good deep whiff of it and slowly closed the door behind him. He weakly smiled at the blonde shoulder-length-haired male, with blue almost violet eyes. "Bonjour, Arthur. Where's Alfred?" Francis asks gently kissing his cheek, the little stubbles on his chin brushing softly against Arthur soft skin.

Arthur slowly looked at Matthew then back at Francis. "Follow me." he motioned towards his bedroom, locking the door behind them with a soft sigh. "I lost him," he turned around, "in the forest." Francis's eyes grew wide. "What?! You lost Alfred?!" he cried devastated, "Where is he? Is he still out there?" He panicked, lunging towards the door handle. "I couldn't find him. I searched everywhere for hours on end. I don't know where he possibly could have gone." He admitted hanging his head, ashamed. "It's all my fault. I wasn't paying attention. I lost my son. He's gone."

Quickly Francis pulled him into a tight embrace with a loving kiss. A few seconds passed and he released, "Non. Don't say that, Arthur. It's not your fault. Alfred runs off all the time, we'll find him. I swear. Get some rest. I'll call the police department. They'll find him." He reassured as Arthur nodded, slowly walking to his bed, laying down.

Laying down wide awake, Arthur tossed and turned. "Bloody hell! How does that frog expect me to sleep while my son is missing? It's impossible!" he growled angrily slamming his fists against the mattress. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he set his palms against his forehead. "I shouldn't be mad at Francis. It's my fault Alfred is alone, and it's all my fault. I'm the only one here to blame." He quietly rose from his bed and slowly opened the door. Looking left and right he scanned around making sure Matthew and Francis weren't wandering about.

Once he was positive they were in bed he crept down to the cellar, locking the door, and began grabbing as much alcohol he could get his hands on. Sliding down the cellar's door he began opening the alcohol bottles and chugged them down. Nothing mattered anymore, he wanted it all to end. It had to end. However he was only a country and being a country came the torture of being immortal. He was forced the stay alive to endure the pain and suffering. "Please be safe... Please…" he cried to himself holding the bottle close to his body.


	2. Bring On The Memory

"Arthur? Are you in there?" Francis worriedly asks, gently knocking on the cellar door.

With a deep groan, Arthur awoke to the sound of faint knocking and his lover's voice. "Yes, Francis. I'm here." He sluggishly responded, placing his forehead gently in the palm of his hand and sitting up. "Can you come out, pleaze?" "Uh.. Yeah… I'll be out in a few.."

With that, Francis nodded and headed back upstairs to Matthew. "Arthur's not coming up?" the shy boy asks pushing his wavy dark blonde hair out of his face, revealing his violet eyes. "Non, in a little while." He smiles happily at his young son, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "What about Al?" Francis froze up on the spot. "_How do I tell him Alfred iz missing? It would crush hiz little heart into piecez._" He thought before giving Matthew a small smile. "He'll be home zoon. Don't you worry."

Francis picked up Matthew and gently cradled him in his arms. "What'z that I zee? Tearz?" Matthew nodded, rubbing them away with his tiny fists. "Oui, Papa. I just miss Al. I want him to come home." He whimpered clenching onto Francis's shirt, burying his face into his chest. "I want Al!" he cried tears staining Francis's shirt. "Matthew, pleaze calm down. It'z alright." He whispered, rubbing his back as Matthew looked up to him. "Thank you, Papa." A small smile slithered its way onto his features, brightening up his face. "Now let'z put you into bed, non?"

* * *

After putting Matthew into bed, Francis walked back down to the cellar. "Arthur, I'm worried. Pleaze come out of there." "Hmm? Oh right.." Arthur murmured, placing both of his hands on either side of himself, using them to push himself up off the floor. Slowly he turned around from his spot placing his hand on the doorknob, sighing. He knew Francis would be furious at the alcohol bottles littered on the cellar floor. But that's something he's going to be forced to endure.

He opened up the door which began to push back all the empty bottles behind it. His hair was messy beyond repare and his breath reeked of whiskey, which burned the inside of Francis's nose. "Arthur! Vous sentez comme le whisky et la cave est dégoûtant!" "Francis, you know I can't understand when you speak French. Also, can you not yell? This hangover gave me the biggest migraine. He groaned holding his head. "Oui, zorry." Francis sighed deeply, full of concern looking over Arthur.

"Excuse me." Arthur sighed slowly moving passed Francis in the doorway. "Did you call the police department?" Arthur asked, sluggishly climbing up the stairwell and his hand firmly holding onto the railing. "Oui, they zaid they'll begin zerching today," explained Francis closely following behind him.

Once back up in the living room, Arthur looked around. "Where's Matthew?" "I put him to bed. Poor boy doezn't know what to do without Alfred. He'z like a lozt puppy." Arthur nodded slowly, sitting down in the seat next to the window. He longingly looked out of it. "I know the feeling. But there's nothing left to do now but wait, and hope for his safe return." Francis sat next to him and gently grabbed his hand. "He will come home zafley. I promize."

* * *

Night grew closer casting the forest with a dark and cold shadow, bring out all the wolves who began howling in the distance. The wind had begun to pick up, creating a brisk rustling in the trees all around him. "Daddy?" the small blonde haired boy whines, slowing venturing into the forest. Stepping over twigs and small rocks with his stubby legs, while climbing over fallen trees and boulders.

Alfred found an old tree stump. It was large and appeared to be cleanly cut a foot from the base. He smiled walking up to it. The stump was heavily shaded by beautiful dangling willow trees, swaying in the gentle breeze. One of the tree's leafy branches gently grazed against his cheek gently.

He walked up to the stump and sat down on it. Smiling, he slowly laid backward enjoying the smell of flowers, and the beautiful siren environment around him as he relaxes. His legs were throbbing from the long walk he endured, and laying down felt like heaven.

Lying down on the large old stump, he closed his eyes, the world around him fading to black. Within the pitch black abyss of his mind, was a light shining down on a door. What's a door doing inside of his mind? Well Alfred decided it was time to find out.

Curiously the young boy ran off towards the strange door. Pressing his head against it he heard muffled voices, which sounded all too familiar. Wanting to know who the voices belong to he opened it, and what he found inside brought a delighted smile onto his face. It was his dad, Arthur sitting down on the couch reading the paper with himself in his lap.

He remembered the awful burnt food smell that lingered whenever Arthur cooked. The overjoyed smile that could light up the entire room whenever Alfred forced himself to eat the 'food'. Somehow surviving his fathers cooking.

Alfred didn't have to eat Arthur's awful cooking all the time. Francis would often come over and cook his French cuisines. That Frenchman's cooking made up for all that disgusting kissing they do. Always pulling each other as close as possible, gently holding each other as their two lips met. Mattie always says it's adorable, but not to Alfred. To him, it's the most disgusting thing on earth.

"Mattie..." He mumbled a tear streaming down his baby soft cheek, remembering all the times they spent together. All the times Matthew would cry and get scared, having Alfred be the one to protect him. To be the hero, and just like all heroes, he always got a reward kiss. He loved Mattie, he has been and will be the only one Alfred ever wants to protect. He wanted to make him feel happy and safe.

Low growling from all sides disrupted his wonderful dreams, forcing him to shoot straight up. Panicked he looked all around him, soon become paralyzed with fear as hungry wolves lurked their way towards him. Pitch black eyes staring at the young child. Whimpering Alfred slowly began move backwards in attempt to get away, only to end up falling off, onto the ground. A scream escaped his lips as he landed.

Quickly he got back up to his feet and ran away from the wolves. The wolves were now chasing after him, baring large fangs. Theirs paws crushed the fallen leaves and twigs.

His heart felt as though it would fly out of his chest any second, and breathing became hard for the young child. The lack of air was making his vision blurry and spotted until everything around him begun to fade. Without being able to see caused him to trip over a large fallen branch.

Now he was even more vulnerable. Alone, cold, and now covered in dirt as he lies on the ground helplessly. The wolves have caught up to Alfred and are getting uncomfortably close. "Help!" He screamed bloody murder as the blood thirsty wolves lunge at him.


End file.
